


Love isn't ordinary

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Drabble, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-01
Updated: 2007-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Series of funny drabbles focusing on the odd relationship between George and Luna.





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

She woke him up too early. She stole the covers, insisted on checking the bed for imaginary creatures, and always told him every important snippet of her day before letting him sleep at night. The pillows always wound up on her side of the bed. The bed was weighed down with too many blankets.  
  
He was accustomed to sharing – but not to this degree. When she announced a weeklong stay with a friend dealing with the loss of her cat, he had to catch his sigh of relief in the back of his throat.  
  
He’d have the best sleep in ages, he thought.  
  
That evening, he pushed off all the heavy blankets, and moved all of the pillows to his side of the bed. He took a deep breath, which was easier than normal, as there was no blonde head resting on his chest. He slept, but it was an uneasy sleep – the sleep you get in somewhere unfamiliar. It didn’t make sense, for he was home, but he had the feeling that it wasn’t quite his bed. Tomorrow night, he vowed, showing up groggy and late at the shop, ravenously hungry.  
  
The next night was cold. He piled all the blankets back onto the bed, but his feet were still freezing. His neck hurt from the use of too many pillows. His chest felt too light without her head resting on it, and the room was too quiet. He felt, in short, miserable, and owled Fred in the morning with a note saying he was too sick for work.  
  
Attempts at making toast had created the smell of burning and a blackened square he promptly deposited in the waste bin. Lying on the sofa, he thumbed through Quidditch magazines, entirely bored.  
  
That was where Luna found him, upon her return. He looked up at her, guilt in his eyes at being so unappreciative of her presence before.  
  
“George, would you like some lunch?” she asked.  
  
“Very much.” George replied.  
  
That night they feasted on all of their favorite things, and when they slipped into bed he gratefully tangled his legs with hers and smoothed her hair as she rested her head on him.  
  
“You came home early,” he said quietly.  
  
“I needed you more than Hermione needed me. She has Ron, anyways.”  
  
“I needed you too,” George whispered.  
  
That night, he had the best sleep in ages.


	2. Gifts

“It’s your anniversary today, isn’t it?” Fred asked his brother, shoving countless trick wands into a display case.  
  
George nodded.  
  
“Off you go then. Get your girl something lovely. Business is slow – I don’t need you.”  
  
George rolled his eyes. “You make me feel so special. And how do you know I haven’t got everything already?”  
  
Fred gave George a piercing look.  
  
George turned Weasley-red, and sighed. “Okay, you got me.”  
  
“Make sure to get flowers,” his twin replied knowingly.  
  
Minutes later, strolling through the market, George passed the roses. He passed the tulips and the lilies, the sunflowers and the daisies, the pansies and the primroses.  
  
Completely unimpressed, he looked and looked. He looked at prearranged flowers, and the flowers that are just in plastic packages for men who’ve forgotten to order them or need a hasty “I’m sorry,” a hurried “I’ll miss you when you’re gone,” or a rushed “Congratulations on that job offer.”  
  
They didn’t say “I love you.” Well, they did SAY that, but as George knew so well, sometimes things meant more than what was directly written on their packages. There was more to gifts than what was directly spelled out on them – time, for instance, and price. That was with other girls – with Luna, a lot of those rules didn’t even apply. There were new rules, and he enjoyed the exciting challenge of finding them all out, following them, and making up his own.  
  
None of the flowers were right for his Luna – he felt this instinctively. Leaving the flowers, he saw something that fit his purpose. Rushing over, he bought several and left feeling immensely satisfied with himself.  
  
Luna met him at the door with a smile on her face.  
  
“George, you remembered!”  
  
He smiled and passed the parcel into her waiting arms.  
  
She rushed in and put them in a vase, exclaiming “Such beautiful celery! I always say, it’s a shame to that plants that are such a color green aren’t appreciated for the color that they are.”  
  
Arranging them in a vase with a climbing piece of ivy she clipped from the backyard, she placed them in the center of the messy dining-room table.  
  
“Let’s go flying,” she said.  
  
“Oho, is that my present?”  
  
“Stay low, please.”  
  
Before they left, Luna tucked a tiny piece of celery behind her ear. It was such a lovely color, after all.


	3. Thursday Nights

George liked games and tricks and thrived on laughter and secrets.  
  
Perhaps this was why he loved Thursday night dinners so much. He looked forward to them all week.  
  
Nobody else knew that – it was a secret.  
  
After a long day of work, he stepped into the house. A beaming Luna greeted him.  
  
“Close your eyes!” she demanded, hands on her hips and hair slightly disheveled. She was holding a wooden spoon. He could deduce absolutely nothing from this information. He closed his eyes obediently.  
  
She slipped a cast-aside Ravenclaw tie around his head, efficiently blindfolding him. Guided by her fingertips on his bare arms, he stepped slowly into the kitchen. He found this both nerve-wracking and exciting, in turn. The smells in the air both taunted him and alarmed him. Had something been burnt? Was Luna going to slip him a potion? Would it just be normal food tonight?  
  
He heard the clink of a plate on the table in front of him. Luna giggled, and took his hand, placing some sort of silverware item in it. Was it a fork? A spoon? A knife? That sort of information could tell you so much. He knew better than to feel the tip with his other hand though. That would spoil the game.  
  
She directed his hand to scoop up some of the food (or possibly potion? Poison?) she had prepared for him. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t resist asking a question though.  
  
“It isn’t poisoned, right?”  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a bezoar!”  
  
This didn’t make him less worried.  
  
Hesitatingly, he pulled the food to his mouth. It smelled… like garlic? Or pepper. Or rosemary? He wished he hadn’t experimented with such strong smelling things today, his smelling ability seemed below par. He took a deep breath, and pushed the spoon (for that was what it was) into his mouth. He swallowed and laughed.  
  
Luna laughed loudly, and pulled off the blindfold, allowing him to identify visually what he had already tasted - Roasted potatoes.  
  
They commenced eating the rest of the spread, occasionally locking eyes over the kitchen table and smiling into their asparagus.  
  
“Well, if you had poisoned me, you know you wouldn’t get anything enjoyable tomorrow. I’d make sure to give you a WWW concoction.” George said between mouthfuls of dinner.  
  
“Ooh!” Luna exclaimed. “I love Friday night dinners.”


End file.
